shadowwonder

Cherished makes me think of precious makes me think of valuable makes me think of worthy makes me think of Brene Brown makes me think of unashamed makes me think of the lovely Nichole Nordeman song I heard yesterday that sings about how God loves me anyway makes me think of how crazy -important it is for me to let Every. Single. Person. In. My. Life .   know that he or she is worthy makes me anxious about how I parent makes me realize my   shortcomings   are   rooted   in   my   own   sense   of   unworthiness    makes me wonder: how do I nurture this knowledge in myself ? makes me see all over again my tendency to look to friends and family as the source for my worth makes me realize this tendency could be misguided makes me remember everyone always saying,   “Christ is the only source for your worthiness” makes me wonder ( again! ): How in the world am I supposed to Know- for-sure-in-my-gut that the

They've rested in the depths for decades, these questions, these thoughts. Their whispers bubble up, Inviting me to come, to see, to ponder. The sunny surface glitters, seems the perfect combination of bright warmth and liquid cool, but sometimes the shine grows tiresome, becomes a glare. So I take a deep gulp, and swim down. I peer through the murk sustained only for that single breath. Seconds before my feet must push from the bottom, I reach out, take one of the treasures and return to the surface where I examine it under the blue sky and decide  whether to give its whispers a voice. ====================================== Your turn now . . . . .   *  What are some of the thoughts that lay dormant in your mind?   *  Do you ever wonder whether there's value in un-anchoring them, bringing them to the surface, giving them words?  *  How

I asked for a word . The response seemed Providential in its familiarity with my penchant for making almost anything unnecessarily complicated: Not just a single word, but a single syllable. An invitation to shake off shadow and wake to wonder. It has echoed through these dozen months sometimes singing often haunting always reminding (though I’ve not always heeded). Giving me permission to pry my eyes from fear (and its death-bringing clutches), and, instead, to look up, ahead, fastening my faith to what will come, and trust that it is Good. Powerful, that word.